


A Most Diverting Adventure

by nothanksweregood (eavis)



Category: One Direction (Band), The Voice (Ireland) RPF
Genre: (brief) - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Alternate Universe - Regency, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Gen, Multi, Period Typical Attitudes, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 14:45:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11315601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eavis/pseuds/nothanksweregood
Summary: A curious interaction with the village's local blacksmith leads to adventures undreamt of.





	1. Chapter 1

My Dear Sir,

My father requested I write to you in order to Ascertain whether we might have the Pleasure of your company this week or the Next. Either, of course, is extremely agreeable to us, altho’ my father may not be in attendance as he may himself be in Town.

And that portion of my duty dispensed with, I have the rest of the paper free to dispose of as I please.

You utter Rascal, Haz! Promised me you would come for a visit six months ago, and when I press you, insist you are ‘too busy’. And yet James’ latest letter makes it Clear you are doing Nothing but doting on his Wife in her Extremely interesting Condition & eating his Imported Chocolates.

James implores me to take my turn with you, else he will be forced to impose upon Sir Benjamin again, and we all remember Far Too Well what occurred last time.

Please reply at your earliest convenience and let me know when to come collect you.

Yours in haste, 

Niall Horan

 

 

Niall sighs, lifting his cap for a moment to wipe the sweat from his forehead with a much-maligned handkerchief. He nods to Smithers. “If you can finish up here, mate, I’ll take Shadow in for those new shoes on me way out of town.”

“Leavin’ us again, Master Niall?” Smithers grins at him, cheerful, and Niall laughs. 

“Not for long, I hope. You remember my friend Styles? He’s coming for another visit and I’m to fetch him from London.”

Smithers groans. “Not likely to forget, am I, nor Poll ‘n the rest of the lads. Not after he took it into his curly head ‘t help us with the milking and cost us hours tryin’ to fetch Bes home when she kicked both him and th’ bucket and ran for it.”

“He was trying to help,” Niall points out, feeling honour bound to defend his friend regardless of his private opinion. Harry’s a good mate, and he is everlastingly helpful, but his definitions of what that looks like does tend to vary a bit from most people’s.

Smithers just shakes his head and bends again to the plough. “Might want to ask the smith for another draw chain.” He fingers the current one, lips pursed. “Don’t fancy the chances of this’n lasting all spring.”

Niall nods. “I’ll have it sent ‘round. I should be back by tomorrow, please God.”

“I’ll enjoy the night of peace before young master Styles descends on us.”

 

Niall whistles as he leads Shadow into the smith’s yard. “Dean!” he calls. “Got a horse here for you. Gonna have to leave it, though. Got a…” He trails off as a figure comes out of the low-lintled doorway, a figure decidedly not Dean.

“Aye, can I help you? Dean’s out ‘t next county just now wi’ a sick brother. I’m Breslin.”

“You a relative?” Niall asks curiously, noting the thick ‘Gar accent so different to Dean’s slow northern one.

“Me da’s cousin, innit.” Breslin grins, open. “You a County Westmeath man yourself, then?”

“On me da’s side, aye. Niall Horan, for my sins.”

“Horan,” Breslin repeats thoughtfully, hand effulging Niall’s in a firm grip. “You’ll be the master, then, aye?”

“Me da’s place, yeah, by way of marriage to me mother. She’s native-born, and never tires of telling us. He’s up’t Town most days, so I’ve got the running of it, mostly.”

Breslin doesn’t say anything, just watching him with his head a little on one side, eyes steady on Niall’s. 

Niall feels himself growing warm under his loosely tied cravat and his fingers fidget on the worn bridle beneath his hand as he explains without quite knowing why, “Mother – prefers it, like. Da ‘n I are more for the country, but she’s a society lady, so for the Season.” Niall holds out his hands, palms up, in a shrug. “Anyway, suits me, being here. Just hope I’m not mucking it up.”

“I don’t reckon you are.” Breslin’s head is still tilted, and despite the oddity of a workman-blacksmith talking to a landed owner like this, Niall believes him when he says, “You’re doing well, chief. Got those low places drained an the wells cleaned out. No one in three counties has an ill word for you or your dad.”

Niall can tell he’s flushed to the tips of his ears. He’s never been infatuated with a woman like Deo and Willie have – mooning about girls’ gardens and sitting in taverns all night to catch another glimpse of whatever fair-cheeked lass has caught their eye this time. But underneath the calm, measure praise of this blacksmith he doesn’t even  _ know _ – he wonders if perhaps this is how they felt. It’s not  _ – seemly _ , his mother’s voice echoes again in his head –  _ comfortable, _ he amends, sternly. He’ll not let anyone’s voice tell him how to be acquainted with someone.

“You’re very kind; thank you,” is what he settles on, the pause surely having gone on too long already.

“Just the truth, Master Horan.” Breslin smiles at him, teeth white in his soot-stained face, and Niall can’t help but stare for another too-long moment before he recalls himself and corrects, “Niall, to my friends, Mister Breslin.”

“Niall to mine.” Breslin smiles – nay, grins at him. “Not very original with names, these Irish. Most mates call me Bressie or Big Head.” He gestures to himself almost ruefully. “That one’s a bit self explanatory, aye?”

Niall laughs, the sound as much a surprise to himself as anyone. “Well, then, Big Head Brez, I’ll be leaving Shadow in your capable hands. I’m off ‘t Town to pick up a friend of mine. Someone’ll be along to pick him up later today, I imagine, if that suits?”

“Suits me fine, yeah.”

Niall hands Shadow’s bridle over to Bressie and swings himself easily onto Pepper. There’s a touch on his leg and Bressie’s looking at him with a furrowed brow. “Careful on the stretch through King’s Clave, aye? There’s been talk of wolves growing more bold of late and I would not see harm come to you.”

“Aye, I’ll take care,” Niall agrees, easy, and Breslin steps back, lifting a hand to his forelock in salute. 

“God go with ye, chief.”

“Sure I thank you. Be well, Brez.”

 

 

The first leg of Niall’s journey is so uneventful as to be nearing on dull, but the second contains adventure enough for the most Quixotic of souls. Mindful of Breslin’s advice, Niall is wary going through King’s Clave, hand hovering over the stout knife he carries as a precaution when travelling. Alas, it avails him but little when the biggest wolf he’s ever laid eyes on appears, snarling low and long and causing gentle Pepper to first throw him and then to bolt. Niall, under the circumstances, can hardly blame her. He spares a thought for his da and his nan, and, ludicrously, for Harry, waiting for him at the Blue Pony, and commends his soul to God as the wolf’s jaws close over the back of his neck in a burst of pain that brings, at length, blessed darkness.

It’s really quite a shock to wake several hours later, as naked as the day he was born, but with no gaping wounds at all. He lies very still for a while, waiting for – he’s not quite sure what. The wolf to come back and finish the job it so inexplicably abandoned? A fleet of angels to drop out of the sky with clothes and an explanation? Niall groans, quietly, and rolls over, getting his legs underneath himself.

He’s – sore, but no more than one might expect, spending an entire night without a stitch of clothing on the forest floor. Hesitantly, he reaches to feel where he remembers the wolf’s jaws closing, but his exploring fingers meet only slightly raised flesh, as though he’d received a wound there months past. He frowns, fingers moving over it and then the other side. Perhaps he had – hit his head, as he fell, and it made such a shallow cut it healed already?

As explanations go, it’s severely lacking, but he’s not spoiling for options. He sighs and is debating the viability of constructing some sort of covering out of leaves when there’s a loud  _ crack  _ from behind him. He whirls around in time to see an elegantly dressed person step out of the thin air between two trees, leading an equally elegant horse.

He smiles when he sees Niall, quite as though naked men stood in the middle of clearings is quite a normal occurrence. “Hello! Would you be able to tell me the way to Londinium?” He frowns, thick eyebrows bunching in concern. “Are you not cold, sir? There is still a chill, this early in your spring.”

“I –“ Niall blinks, passing a hand over his eyes. “I – I am a trifle cold, now you make mention of it. If you had a pair of trousers to spare, I would be very grateful.”

“Of course!” the other man says at once, turning to his saddlebags and pulling out a pair of blue silk trousers and a white shirt made of some filmy stuff much softer than linen, and a jacket to match the trousers. There are no smallclothes, but Niall is too grateful to be clothed again to be fussed over such niceties. “Thank you very much, sir. Might I have the pleasure of knowing to whom I am indebted.”

“Oh!” To Niall’s bemusement, the other man blushes all the way to his – pointed ears? “I’m really sorry; how dreadfully embarrassing. Liam, you idiot!” He mutters this last to himself, looking properly upset.

“Hey, hey, easy, Liam, right? I’m Niall.”

“Liam Geoffson Karenson Payne, at your service,” Liam says, performing an elaborate bow and nearly tripping over himself, face going red again. “I’m – so sorry, I keep flubbering this up. Perhaps one more try?”

He looks at Niall anxiously, brown eyes wide and a little damp looking, and without thinking Niall takes both Liam’s hands in his own, pressing them firmly in his own. “You did perfectly, Liam, really. Loved the bow, and I felt really – introduced, like. Properly like you were at my service.”

Liam takes a deep breath, shoulders straightening and a bit of a spark coming back to his eyes. “I – really? You’re not just saying that because I’m – being a leafling and I need someone to coddle me?”

“’Course not, Niall says stoutly, feeling like wrapping Liam in a hug like his Nan used to do him when he was feeling poorly.

Liam looks utterly delighted, and he forgoes a hug entirely by darting in to leave a kiss on the corner of Niall’s mouth and declaring, “You’re the nicest human I’ve ever met!”

“Oh, er.” Niall tries to think of a way to phrase his question without sounding like he’s looking to get carted off to an asylum. “Have you – met a lot of non-humans, then?”

Liam laughs, a happy giggle of noise, and kisses Niall again. “You’re my first human! I’ve met lots of tree spirits, and some water spirits, of course, and there’s – I mean. We’re mostly just Elves, at home.”

“Sorry, you’re – what?”

“Oh! I’m an elf, of course.”

“Of course,” Niall echoes, a little blank. “I – beg your pardon. I don’t mean to be rude, I just – I sort of thought elves were stories, like one tells to children. No offense, I hope?”

“Well it has been a couple centuries since any of us were on this side of the barrier, I suppose.” Liam frowns, rubbing at his jaw.

“You’re looking well for being centuries old,” Niall says, as normally as he can manage. Why, Liam looks hardly old enough to warrant a razor.

Liam laughs again, delighted-sounding. “I’m hardly fifty!” Liam smiles at him, so warmly Niall can’t help but smile back. “I am yet a sprout by my people’s reckoning. I have been begging for years for the Elders to allow me to meet humans, but they forbad it.”

“What made them change their minds?”

Liam looks like Smither’s favourite brachet when she’s gotten into something she shouldn’t. “I wouldn’t stop trying, and then I met – someone. And he said their rules were stupid and I should just go anyway.”

“I’m glad you did.” Elf or no, there is something irresistibly endearing about Liam that makes it hard not to engage with him. “So where are you headed next?”

"I don't know, really. I mean, I expect I ought to pay my respects to your Lord, yes? Or - Matriarch, or whoever's in charge. That's the proper thing to do, isn't it?"

"Well," Niall is really far from convinced such a meeting would profit anyone, least of all Liam and his people, but Liam is looking at him with such hope that he cannot bring himself to say as much. "I - suppose you could? There's the - the mayor, you know, if you really wanted to meet someone in charge, but I don't know that we could get an appointment with him. I'm going just to the edge of London to fetch a friend back with me myself, and I'd offer to introduce you to the mayor, but I'm afraid I should'n't be much help. It's more my mother you want for that sort of thing."

"Oh.”

Liam looks so disappointed that Niall can’t help offering, “It’s not exactly the mayor, but you’re welcome to come with me if you like but I’ve - I seem to have misplaced my horse. And I don’t think I could tell you quite where we are.”

Liam frowns a little, but he looks almost more excited than nervous. He looks around the clearing as though verifying there’s no one else present, and then says, not quite managing to whisper, “Can you - will you promise not to tell anyone, if I introduce you to someone?”

“On my honour as a gentleman,” Niall promises, readily enough.

Apparently to no one at all, Liam calls out, “Louis!”

There’s a brief pause, and then a flash of light streaks past Niall faster than thought. He blinks rapidly and the light resolves itself into a small figure no longer than Niall’s arm, darting swiftly to and fro in front of Liam’s face. It’s clearly upset, although both the words and the gestures are too fast for Niall to make out. 

“Easy, easy, Louis, you will frighten Niall with such language!” Liam, apparently, can understand Louis perfectly well despite the rapidity of his speech.

“Erm. It’s nice to meet you, Louis,” Niall offers. Louis alights on Liam’s shoulder and crosses his arms. There is disdain enough in the scant inches of his body to put all the Ton to shame.

Liam is frowning anxiously, eyes turning worriedly from Louis to Niall and back. “Louis,  _ please _ .” He begs, whisper not quite low enough. “This is my first human.”

There’s a slight shudder in the air, and then there’s a boy standing before Niall, entirely without clothes, but with the same disdainful expression. “He doesn’t  _ smell _ human,” he says suspiciously, looking Niall up and down coolly.

Niall flushes, a little, more for the scrutiny than the words, and Louis, naturally, doesn’t miss it. “You’re blushing red,” he remarks, sounding delighted. “I suppose you are human, then. Liam and I blush green.” Like proper people, his tone seems to imply.

“And what sort of being are you, then? An elf, like Liam?”

Louis is the picture of horrified disgust. “How  _ dare _ you call me one of those stuck up prissy stick-in-the-arse-ponces? I’m a  _ pixsie _ .”

“Liam doesn’t seem much like a prissy ponce t’me,” Niall says, glancing at Liam a little worriedly.

Louis just rolls his eyes. “That’s only because I’ve corrupted him. Gotten him all trained, haven’t I?” He punctuates this statement by leaning over to deposit a loud kiss right on Liam’s slightly open mouth.

Niall coughs a little, because he hadn’t - well. Everyone knows the rumours about Lord Byron, and of course there are others who - and they are, after all, not human, and - it is simply that, well, Louis is  _ naked _ for one. He looks to Liam for some clue as to how he ought to react, but Liam is busy fending off what looks to be Louis’ best attempts at hitting him in the privates.

He coughs again, a little louder, and they both turn to look at him, Louis’ hands firmly entangled in Liam’s. Louis’ ears are pointed, Niall can’t help but note. “Sorry to disturb you, I just - my friend, in London - “

“Of course!” Liam’s handsome face at once assumes a determined expression. “Louis, can you help us find the main road again? Niall and I are going to London!”

Louis scowls, his good humour of a moment ago, playing with Liam, vanished. “Why are you going  _ there _ ? It’s awful. Loads of humans and not one with any sense of fun. Besides, you wanted to met a human and now you’ve met Niall, so you can come back with me and we’ll play Hunt the Gnome with my sisters.”

Stubborn, though, Liam insists he wants to go to London and see the great Lady there and meet more humans.

Louis turns little again and disappears into the top of a tall oak, where he sulks furiously for a solid hour.

Niall and Liam converse underneath Louis’ tree, Liam listening interestedly to even the most mundane details of Niall’s life with only occasional sorrowful glances upwards.

At length there’s a thump and Louis bounces up from the ground, big again and still decidedly naked. “Fine. I’ll take you to London. But I want your spiderweb cloak,  _ and _ I’m taking you back with me straight away after you’ve seen it. Lady Karen would never forgive me if I let you get hurt by those awful humans.”

NIall ignores the not even a little bit veiled insult as Liam protests that his mother doesn’t even know he and Louis are friends and anyway he’s sure they’re much nicer than Louis thinks.

They set off, Louis draped regally in a silvery cloak that seemed to wrap itself neatly around him of its own accord the moment it touched his skin. On anyone else it would have looked faintly ridiculous, but somehow Louis just looks princely, like one of the great lords from days of old in the stories Niall’s nan used to tell him.

Louis is in front of Liam on Liam’s horse, and Niall is remounted on Pepper. Louis had disappeared and come back, very smug, leading her as easily as though he and not Niall had been there when she’d been foaled.

Niall does not inquire how it is that Louis comes to know the way to London from some far-flung clearing, instead asking, “So how long have you been - “ he hesitates “ - companions, then?”

“Over a year, since we met,” Liam replies, looking fondly at Louis and then smiling at Niall. “Of course, we were properly at each other’s throats, then.”

“It’s a stupid war,” Louis says, rolling his eyes and settling more comfortably back against Liam. “And the fact that it’s gone on for so many hundreds of years is stupider.”

“War? Aren’t you both fairies?”

Liam looks very shocked. “I’m an  _ elf. _ Louis is a  _ pixsie _ . They’ve been at war forever, practically. Fairies aren’t real, anyway. They’re just stories mothers tell their children so they’ll behave.”

“Drink all your  _ balth _ or the fairies will come and take you,” Louis says in a singsong.

“So - elves and pixsies are real, but not fairies? What else is real?”

“Selkies. Water spirits. Tree spirits. Um. You don’t have satyrs on your side, I don’t think? Nearly all the unicorns are gone, now. Hobs, of course, but those are mostly on your side. Mermaids. Anymore, Lou?”

“Those’re the main ones.” Louis looks bored, squirming forward to pull a cluster of berries off a low-hanging branch. “Who bets I can get these into that hollow stump without looking?”

“No bet,” Niall says at once. “Haven’t got any money, have I? Got attacked by wolves last night. That’s why I hadn’t got any clothes on when I met you, Liam.”

Liam and Louis both turn to look at him. “Wolves?” Liam asks, frowning.

“And you didn’t get bitten? That was lucky.” Louis’ tone is light, but there’s a sharpness in his blue eyes that wasn’t there a moment ago.

“Thought I had, I hurt so much.” Niall shrugs, suddenly uneasy. “But it must’ve been a tree branch or something when I was unhorsed. There was only a little blood and it’s healed already. See?” He tugs down his borrowed shirt to expose his shoulder. It healed into an odd sort of scar, more ropy and thick than he would’ve thought for it to have healed already.

“A  _ tree branch _ ?” Louis says, sounding incredulous. “You really think -”

“Louis,” Liam cuts in, sounding stern for the first time. “We don’t know -”

“He was attacked by  _ wolves _ , Payno, it’s not like -”

“But they left him, so maybe -”

“Don’t be a stupid duffer, Liam, he might as well know now instead of waiting for the full moon to find out.”

“Sorry,  _ what _ are we talking about?” Pepper senses Niall’s tension and dances sideways underneath him until Niall stills her with a nudge to her side.

“So, um. There’s another thing that’s real.” Liam looks uneasy.

“You’re a werewolf, Niall.” Louis is more blunt, pushing his fringe out of the way with two slender fingers. 

Niall feels like his own hands, clasped on Pepper’s reins, are extra knobbly and work-roughened in comparison. Then his brain catches up with what Louis and Liam are saying and he gapes at them unattractively. “Sorry, a  _ what _ .”

“A werewolf. There’ve been packs of them in this wood for ages, really. Most of them are perfectly decent - just once in a while there’ll be one that goes feral and goes around Turning people until they’re put down.” Louis looks at him curiously. “I know we’re not welcome here anymore, but werewolves managed to pass, mostly. People knew they existed and all - just was’n’t mentioned in polite society unless you were rich enough or mad enough to get away with it.”

“No, I -” Niall scrubs a hand over his face, the colours of the forest blurring into dizzy green. “I’ve - never heard anyone speaking of any of this like it’s real.” An image of Bressie’s face as he’d warned Niall of the wolves comes back to mind. His eyebrows bunching in more concern than a day’s ride to London would seem to warrant.

He looks up to see both Liam and Louis staring at him - again. Liam’s overtly concerned and Louis’... mostly looking bored. Again. But perhaps with some concern there as well. Somewhere.

“Well, now that none of us are human, are we still going to London?” Louis demands not seconds later, any look of worry sunken underneath one of impatience. “Because if not, I was going Medusa hunting.”

“Louis,” Liam says, face a curious mixture of disapproving and delighted. “Of course we’re going to London! Niall has to find his friend. Anyway, no one’s seen Medusas for hundreds of years.”

“No one’s seen  _ us _ for hundreds of years,” Louis points out, sulky, but he cheers up when Liam lets him plait the horses’ manes and tails with witch-locks that - are suspiciously like the ones Niall’s patiently combed out of his Pepper’s mane far too many times.

Louis smiles at him angelically and Niall sighs and doesn’t ask.

At first Liam asks question after question about the places they pass and Niall’s day to day tasks and the like, but three or four hours into the journey he grows quiet and oddly restless by turns, beginning a question and then breaking off to giggle about something with Louis and then at length he says, “We’re nearly there, yes?”

Niall glances through the canopy of trees towards the sun and then back to Liam, raising an eyebrow. “My dear chap, we’re hours out yet. Eight or nine, by my reckoning.”

“Eight or nine  _ hours _ ?” Louis is bolt upright, the oak-leaf crown he was constructing fluttering unheeded to the forest floor. “I can’t ride for eight or nine hours!”

Niall’s eyebrows go up farther. “You can, though. I mean, we’ll have to stop and rest the horses, of course, but there’s no real reason we can’t. I’ve made the trip plenty of times in one day.”

Louis groans loudly enough to startle an entire flock of blackbirds from their rest. “But it’s _so boring_. It’s _dull_ , Niall. I’m going to expire! Boredom is deadly for pixsies!”

Without Niall quite seeing how he’s done it, Louis is hovering in front of his nose, wings beating too quickly to be seen. “Niall. Do you  _ want _ me to die?” he whispers tragically.

“Louis -” Niall says a little helplessly, “I don’t - I can’t make the roads any shorter. You need’n’t come if it’s going to hurt you, of course.”

“It’s the roads that are the problem?” Louis flashes human-sized and then back to small and then big again. He snaps his fingers.

Pepper doesn’t bat an eyelash, which Niall dizzily thinks is rather unfair. It felt very much like the entire forest had just  _ whooshed _ by like a hare with a fox on it’s tail.

Liam smacks Louis, who is looking very pleased with himself. “For shame!” He is trying to sound stern, but Niall can hear the tremble of laughter in his voice. “Lou, you know lots of people are ill the first time they Fold.”

“He’s a werewolf,” Louis says dismissively, and pretends not to be paying attention when Liam asks Niall anxiously if he’s going to be sick.

“I hope not,” Niall says, perhaps more honest than reassuring, and Liam’s eyebrows go all worried and he makes Niall drink something out of a little flask that tastes like apples and honey and Niall begins to feel better almost at once.

Whatever the side issues of Folding, it’s clearly effective. The horses walk placidly on for another hundred feet or so and then they’re out of the forest and Niall is somehow not surprised to see London laid out before them like a smog-stained and tatty quilt.

Louis is back to looking pleased with himself, and Liam shakes his head at him fondly before asking Niall, “Where is it you’re meeting your friend, then?”

On the way to the Blue Pony, Louis flits in and out of sight half a dozen times, each time reappearing looking absolutely delighted and once with a hot apple pastry that he tosses to Niall before vanishing once again.

Niall tilts Liam a questioning look.

“It’s safe to eat,” Liam assures him.

“Where is he going?”

“He’ll be doing mischief, I expect.” Liam accepts the half pastry Niall hands over with a quick smile. “He can’t help it, you know. That’s just how pixsies are, especially when they’re young.”

“How old is he?” Niall asks, curious.

“Not much older than I am. Almost forty-three.”

Niall blinks. “And that’s - young?”

“Oh, yes. Elves and pixsies live til they’re nearly four hundred, unless something happens to them.” LIam frowns thoughtfully. “I expect you’ll live past a hundred yourself, now that you’re - yknow. Not human.”

“I - right.” Niall falls into a contemplative silence and realises with a start some minutes later that they’re in front of the the Blue Pony.

Louis is back in front of Liam and looking at them in their unselfconscious finery, Niall feels ashamed of his own dowdiness for a moment before remembering he’s in Liam’s clothes and no doubt looks as well as it’s possible for an average Irishman to look.

He swings off of Pepper, handing her reins off to the waiting stable boy, and waits for the others to do the same before heading inside.

It’s easy to spot Harry. He’s surrounded by a crowd of people, as usual, and despite the early hour, there are plenty of empty glasses scattered about.

Niall catches Paul’s eye and the man gestures Niall over. He’s cleaning the already spotless bar as he says gruffly, “Good job you’re here early, lad. Been here three nights and if he tries t’ give me a hand one more time I’ll be taking the cost of me wares out of his hide.” His expression changes as he catches sight of Liam and Louis just behind Niall. “Beggin’ your pardon, my lords.”

Liam looks surprised and Louis twists around to look behind himself as though in search of the mentioned lords, looking rather disappointed when he finds no one at all.

“Oh, no, these are - just some friends of mine. They kindly offered to travel with me to pick up our Harold.”

“Hallo, I’m Louis. Did you know one of your stable boys is stealing grain?” 

“I - no.” Paul begins to frown, but Louis leans over the bar to pat his hand and smile at him beatifically. “Not to worry. I hung him by his coattails in the pig’s trough just before they were fed and the chickens warned him about doing it again.”

It’s at this interesting moment that Harry finally notices them and stumbles over, shedding persons both male and female and others of indeterminate gender along the way until there’s only Nick Grimshaw left smiling agreeably round the circle by Harry’s side.

“Nialler!” Harry cries, in delighted and inebriated tones. “You’re finally here! I was so  _ lonely _ .”

In almost eerie synchronization, Liam and Louis’ heads swivel from Harry to the crowd at the corner table and back. Niall sighs. “Grimmy, did you let him into the champagne again?”

“No!” Grimmy attempts to look very serious, but ruins it a moment later by giggling and poking a finger into Harry’s dimple. “Nothing stronger than cider and small beer; cross my heart, Lord Niall.”

“I’m not a lord,” Niall says patiently and signals Paul for the bill. “ _ Harry _ ,” he says, trying to keep the disapproval out of his voice. “Harry, pet, I thought you weren’t going to have any more of these dinners.”

“I didn’t!” Harry protests, “...it was just. Grimmy came, and then Aimee and Daisy stopped by, so obviously Xander and his lot came, and - well - I suppose I did, a bit.” Harry looks at Niall very mournfully. “I didn’t  _ mean _ to, though.”

“Nevermind,” Niall sighs, because Harry never means to, but it’s too wearying to try and make Harry see that the end result is the same and so it’s six one half a dozen the other. “Say goodbye to your friends, then, and let’s get home.”

“Good-bye,” Harry says tragically in the corner’s general direction, and then, “Good-bye,” still more tragically to Nick, who responds solemnly, “Parting is such sweet sorrow,” and proceeds to snog Harry thoroughly. Then he deposits warm kisses on both of Niall’s cheeks, a chaste one on Liam’s shocked mouth, and a hearty one on Louis’, who promptly slaps him.

There’s a long stunned silence, Niall wanting desperately to fix this but not knowing how, and almost more desperately trying not to start biting his nails and then Liam clears his throat and says, “I beg your pardon, we didn’t know,” and leans forward to kiss first Grimmy and then Harry and then - Niall doesn’t even have time to brace himself before Liam is kissing  _ him _ , warm and a bit dry and smelling of summer and fresh cut lawns. Then he’s pulling away and Niall shakes himself out of his stupor just in time to prevent Liam from kissing Paul as well.

Louis looks  _ furious _ , and Nick making admiring remarks about Liam’s mouth is doubtless not helping, so Niall all but shoves Harry at him - Louis, not Grimmy - with a quick “get him on Pepper, please,” and grabs Liam before he can kiss the whole rest of the room, calling out a quick farewell to Paul and Nick.

A stable boy (presumably not the one upside down in a pig’s trough) is waiting with the horses and Niall thanks him with a coin for his troubles, nearly vibrating with the desire to be shet of town and back in his green fields and hills.

Louis is still sulking like mad on top of Liam’s horse’s head, and Niall looks around anxiously as he swings up in front of Harry, but no one seems to have noticed anything out of the ordinary.

The horses’ hooves are thudding on dirt instead of cobblestones when Harry leans forward and says damply in Niall’s ear, “There’s a pixsie on your friend’s horse.”

Niall pulls Pepper up sharply enough that she stumbles, mouthing her bit and looking around at him reproachfully. Harry sways and falls against his back heavily. HIs face is worried when Niall twists around to look at him. “Was I not supposed to mention it?” he asks anxiously. “I just, he’s very upset, and when they’re upset pixsies can be. Not nice.” In a frankly abysmal attempt at a whisper he adds, “I don’t think he liked it when the elf kissed Grimmy.”

“Harry.” Niall swallows. “Harry, how do you know about elves and - and pixsies and things?”

“He’s a hob.” It’s Louis’ voice, cold with a hint of a sneer in it, and Niall glances over at him before looking back at Harry. Harry looks absolutely miserable, but also significantly less soused, which is something.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a hob,” he says, sounding like he’s about to throw one of his strops that he insists are perfectly reasonable even when they’re over things like who used the last of the eggs.

“Of course not,” Liam says, sounding like he’s trying to make peace before anything worse happens.

“ _ You _ just had your tongue down his throat, so I don’t suppose you  _ would _ think there was anything wrong with them, would you.” Louis says nastily, and Liam flushes green all across his cheeks and to the tips of his ears. 

“I was being - it’s the  _ culture _ , Louis, I just didn’t want to be rude!”

Louis rolls his eyes, drawing in a breath like he’s about to escalate the situation farther, and Niall hurriedly says first, “Harry, I got bitten by a werewolf and I think our new blacksmith might be one too.”

“What, Dean?” Harry sounds surprised.

“No, his cousin. Breslin.”

“Bressie?” It’s Louis again, quarrel with Harry seemingly forgotten as he leaves Liam’s horse to alight instead between Pepper’s ears. “I know him. He’s nice - he took down the horseshoe over the door.”

“That  _ works _ ?” Niall asks at the same time that Harry says, “You’ve been on Niall’s land?”

Louis looks smug. “Lots of times. Drank your milk sometimes, too. Cook likes me better than you, I reckon.”

“That’s not - you’re not - pixsies don’t  _ do  _ that!” Harry sounds more upset than Niall’s ever heard him, even more so than the time James told him he wasn’t allowed to watch his children without another adult supervisor also present.

“Would someone  _ please _ explain what’s going on, for the love of Mary and all the saints.” Niall pulls Pepper up and drops the reins over her head. He’s not going to have this conversation when he can’t even see half the people’s faces. He settles on the grass at the base of an enormous elm and crosses his arms.

Louis flashes big again, shrugging out of his - Liam’s - cloak and wriggling happily down into the long grass in front of Niall, which immediately sparks an indignant, “Why does  _ he _ get to be naked and you never let me?” from Harry.

Niall looks upward, praying for patience as Liam settles awkwardly next to him. “Is this just - a non-human characteristic? This urge to be as little clothed as possible?”

“Not with elves,” Liam mutters, the tips of his ears still faintly green.

“I’m taking my trousers off,” Harry announces, and Niall can’t suppress a sigh. 

Finally they’re all settled at the base of the tree, in various stages of undress, and Niall gets what the other three all agree is only a very beginner’s course in fey politics and social standings. It turns out that a hob is some sort of household being that’s supposed to go mostly unseen and does little chores and helps around the estate and leave if you give them clothes or anything more than a nightly bowl of milk.

They’re  _ not _ supposed to go out and buy clothes for themselves of the sheerest silk available and spend half of their time with a group of dissolute poets and musicians and the other half bothering their married friends, but apparently Harry got bored a long time ago - “How long?” “...just. A while ago.” “Does this mean you’re really quite old, then, because -” “just a  _ while _ ago, Niall, leave it -” and since he wasn’t actually very good at household tasks anyway, decided his version of being a hob was going to look more like whatever he wanted it to look like because no one was around to tell him not to.

It also appears that they’re not very well respected on the other side of the barrier, partly because they chose to stay on this side and go into hiding, and partly because most elves and even pixsies think that anyone choosing to work for humans is ridiculous and should be cast out of society all together. Liam and even Louis are quick to add that they think this mode of thought is itself ridiculous, and Harry, even though he tries not to show it, looks rather grateful.

Harry, Louis, and Liam are deep in the middle of a discussion centering around someone called Stephanos and whether or not they were overstepping their authority by requiring satyrs to wear trousers before coming into public places when Niall remembers something from earlier and interrupts, “Louis? You said before that you knew Breslin, right?”

Louis glances over at him, curious. “Yes, I knew him before he came over to help his cousin. He helped me out of a poacher’s net once, years and years ago.”

“So he’s - not a werewolf, then?” Niall isn’t quite sure what he’s hoping the answer is. Because if he is - but surely. There’ve got to be other wolves, like Liam was saying earlier - feral ones, it doesn’t mean that Bressie is the one who -

“Oh, he is. Biggest one I’ve ever seen. Like, honestly, he’s  _ massive _ . Scared for me life when he bit open that net, but he was right gentle about it. I was only a leafling at the time, obviously. I’d never get caught in a net these days.”

“Right.” Niall wonders if there’s a protocol for this, something in Christopher Dock’s latest book on etiquette that addresses what to say when you think someone might have bitten you and turned you into a werewolf and also you might possible feel a different sort of way about them than the master of an estate should feel for his blacksmith.

“Why?” Louis asks, his eyes gone all sharp and intent again, but there’s a teasing light in them now instead of the wariness of before. “ _ Oh _ . You don’t think - Niall, I’m sure it was just a feral wolf who bit you. Brez would’n’t. He’s all huge and everything but really he’s gentle as a merbaby.”

“I thought those were extinct now,” Niall manages, back to not being quite certain of what he’s feeling. It’s good, obviously, that Bressie wasn’t the one to bite him,  _ obviously _ , just - there was that split second. Well. He’s read about wolves, is all, and they sort of. They mate for life, don’t they? But obviously. It was just some stray omega and Bressie’s warning was simply a courtesy, one man to another.

“ _ Almost _ extinct,” Liam corrects, “And anyway, Quillus thinks they are going to repopulate, once they’ve managed to get rid of the mussels in the river.”

“That’s good, then.” There’s no talk of continuing on any time soon, and when Louis mentions (complains of) being hungry, Liam retrieves some sort of white flatbread from his pack and passes it ‘round, and between that and sips from his flask they pass a very merry meal. 

It’s beginning to be dusk when there’s a crashing noise from behind them and a large dark dog plunges out of the underbrush, nearly bowling Harry over as it climbs all over Niall panting happily and licking at his face.

“Rhino!” A slow, northern-sounding voice calls from the forest. “ _ Rhino _ ! Here, boy, I’ve told you over and over, you can’t just go rushin’ off ‘cause you found a squirrel. That’s not -” 

The underbrush parts and for a split second an apparition is visible, clad only in simple linen trousers and covered in some sort of strange markings. He makes an odd squawking noise and turns away, clearly fumbling in his pocket for something.

“You need’n’t run off on our account!” Liam sounds as friendly as ever. “Your dog is very handsome. If you’re hungry, we’ve got loads of food left.”

The stranger turns back, a pair of oddly smoked glasses covering his eyes. “I, um, I don’t - I - didn’t mean to - interrupt, like.”

“Not at all,” Niall says politely, fending off Rhino’s affectionate kisses. “Always nice to meet someone new.” Even if said person has clearly not read Christopher Dock’s maxims on the evils of mumbling.

The stranger looks around the circle, hesitating, before settling awkwardly between Harry and Niall. “I’m - I’m Zayn.”

“Niall.” Niall points to himself, then around the circle. “Louis, Liam, Harry. And then Rhino you know.”

“It’s - it’s nice to meet you.” He still seems nervous, like perhaps they’re going to bite him or something, fiddling with what looks like an ear decoration shaped like a small garter snake.

“Lovely to meet you.” Harry smiles at him. “I like your tattows. Lots of different kind of snakes, aren’t they?”

“Um, yeah, I - reckon they are, yeah.”

“I used to have a pet snake, ages ago.” Liam is obviously trying to set Zayn at his ease, but the man seems very anxious still.

“Yeah, I - don’t really - they don’t make very good pets, I don’t think.” Zayn fidgets, looking very much like Pepper when she’s been spooked by something and has to pass by that place again. 

Louis has been oddly quiet, staring very intently at Zayn with narrowed eyes, and now he says suddenly, “You’re a Medusa, aren’t you.”

Zayn freezes, glancing around the circle a bit frantically before his hand moves to his face and his odd glasses.

Louis is leaning back on his hands now, looking smug. (Niall is beginning to think Louis has two main expressions: smug and sulking, with the occasional delighted one thrown in for variety.) “Won’t do you any good, mate. We’re none of us humans.”

Zayn’s hand pauses, then slowly takes off the glasses and folds them away. His eyes are bright gold, like the tawny gold of a lion’s mane. “How did you know.”

“Please. The snake tattows? Hiding your eyes when you saw what you thought was humans? The snake ear decoration, for Pan’s sake.” Louis leans forward. “I thought you’d all crossed over ages ago.”

“Not all of us.” Zayn’s hunched in on himself, looking a bit chilly in just his thin trousers now that the sun’s nearly down.

“Not that I know what a Medusa is,” Niall says wryly, “But we might’ve known he wasn’t human from his apparent allergy to clothes.”

Everyone laughs, even Zayn, albeit a little confusedly. Liam passes Zayn the flask and the last packet of bread and Louis explains that Medusas are more or less descended from the original Medusa, who dared to suggest that she was more lovely than a goddess, and the goddess cursed her with a head full of snakes in place of hair and that she would turn any man who beheld her into stone. 

“So Zayn’s one of her great great grandsons, right Zayn?”

Zayn shrugs. “Best as me mum could figure it, I reckon.”

“I suppose that’s where the godlike looks came from, then,” Niall says, and then goes furiously red.

Zayn has gone red too, inasmuch as can be seen underneath his dark complexion. 

“You don’t have the snakes for hair bit?” Liam asks, sounding curious.

“Just the, um. They’re not actually tattows? They’re. Part of me, like.” Zayn shrugs, uncomfortably. “I get by all right, here. Mum and my sisters - it’s harder for them. They crossed ages ago. But I sort of - I like it, on this side.”

There’s another lull, but it’s comfortable, everyone full and beginning to be a bit sleepy, and they’re debating whether or not to press on at all tonight when Louis declares that he couldn’t possibly Fold them ten feet tonight, so they might as well stay where they are, and then Zayn shyly offers them lodgings with him for the night and they all accept gratefully.

They’re off to a late start the next morning, the beds Zayn made up for them of fresh heather and clean-smelling linens far too comfortable to leave too early, and they’ve just finished readying the horses and saying their reluctant farewells and thank you’s when Harry says, “You could come with us, Zayn.”

“Oh!” Zayn looks caught between nervous and hopeful. “I don’t - um. I usually just sort of - stay here. There aren’t a lot of people, yknow, so I’m - it’s better, if I can’t hurt anyone.”

“You’ve got your glasses, haven’t you?” Niall interjects eagerly, struck by the scheme. “I’m sure these lads could fix something so they couldn’t be knocked off, right boys? And then it’d be perfectly safe.”

“I - suppose I could, yeah.” A slow smile spreads across Zayn’s face, and it stays for most of the journey back to Hartfield. Louis easily agrees to stay small or fly alongside, to spare the horses, and Folds three or four times, saving them hours on the road. It’s definitely better when you know what to expect, although Niall still has to have sips from Liam’s flask after each one. Neither Harry nor Zayn, he notes a touch sourly, require anything at all.

It’s early afternoon when they finally make the familiar turn onto the lane leading to Hartfield proper, and a breeze plays lazily about them as Louis teazes Niall about being a soft estate’s man who wouldn’t know a ploughshare from a pig’s end, though Niall has the callouses to prove otherwise.

“Niall!” a voice calls from behind them, and Niall cranes around Harry to see - Breslin, hammer dangling in one enormous hand like he’s forgotten it was there, hurrying across his yard towards them. The naked relief in his voice and on his face changes almost as soon as he reaches them. “Niall.” he says again, and there’s confusion and a bit of worry in his tone, now.

“Hey, Chief.” Niall tries for a smile, and it’s easier than he might’ve thought. He hands Pepper’s reins to Harry and slides off, stepping close to the blacksmith. “Turns out there’s - a mite more than wolves in our woods.”

He can see Bressie’s attention jerk up and register the others, his gaze stopping and catching on Louis. He’s shaking his head slowly as he looks back at Niall, a smile growing on his face. “Aye, I can see you’ve had a bit of an adventure. Fancy comin’ for a cuppa sometime; tellin’ me all about it?”

Niall can hear Louis and Harry’s chorused ‘ _ oooooooh _ ’ in the background, but he ignores it in favour of smiling back hard enough to make his cheeks ache. “Aye, I’d like that.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now with actual nessie + bonus ot5!

It’s certainly not the ideal situation for Niall’s mum to come home to. Harry is trouser-less, sprawled atop Louis, who is shrieking for Liam to avenge him, and Zayn is in the corner chair closest to the fireplace, smoking something he’s refused to let any of them try out of Niall’s da’s old pipe. Niall is on his stomach in front of the fire, in his oldest trousers (he’d been mucking out stalls all afternoon) and one of Liam’s shirts (they’re  _ infinitely _ more comfortable than anything human tailors could create, and Liam’s assured him he doesn’t mind in the least), laughing at the scene.

There’s the sound of a female voice, all crisp vowels and rounded consonants, and the slower, rolling tones of Bridget, the housemaid, clearly attempting to calm her, and then the click of boots on marble floors. The sound is coming directly towards them.

Niall scrambles upright, fumbling for Zayn’s smoked glasses and thrusting them into his hand, hissing, “Haz! Put some clothes on!”

He’s just shrugging into his coat when his mother appears in the doorway, Bridget hovering apologetically behind her.

Helen takes in the room at a glance, and Niall realises with a hot rush of horror that he’s mis-buttoned his waistcoat, and she’s definitely noticed. “Niall James,” she says coolly, eyeing Harry in unconcealed disapproval. He’s wearing trousers, and a shirt, even, but it’s done up Harry-fashion. Which is to say: Hardly at all. “Young Harry is here again, I see.”

“Hello, mam,” Niall manages, and Harry says, “Lovely to see you again, as always, Lady Helen.”

She hums noncommittally, eyes turning to the other three, and Niall hurries to introduce Zayn, Liam, and Louis. She says, “Lovely to meet you all,” in a tone that clearly means the opposite, and then, “I should like to speak to you in my sitting room, Niall James,” and sweeps out of the room.

“Pan  _ below _ ,” Liam breathes, “she’s really your mum, Niall?”

Niall nods, wordless.

“I could turn all her pillows to snakes,” Louis offers cheerfully, then frowns. “Dunno if that’s fair on the snakes, though.”

Niall can’t help but snort a laugh at that, but it comes out a bit shaky and Zayn comes over, wrapping his arms around Niall from behind and hooking his chin over Niall’s shoulder, nuzzling in a bit. “You all right?” he asks quietly, “want us with you?”

Niall turns so he can embrace Zayn properly. “I think I’ll be all right, but thank you.”

“Niall.” Harry looks worried. “Does - have you told her? About you and Bressie?”

Niall swallows hard, shaking his head.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to come with you?” Liam sounds dubious, and Niall shakes his head again, a little more firmly. 

“Been bitten once and it didn’t kill me. Reckon I can make it through her bark.”

\---

Helen is seated with a full tea laid out on the spindle-legged table Niall was forever knocking over when he was young and still growing into his limbs.

He sits gingerly on the chair across from her own and waits. Helen pours tea into two china cups, adds lemon to one and cream and sugar to the other. She hands the lemon to him and waits for him to take a sip, trying not to grimace at the sour-bitterness of it, before  _ finally _ taking a sip of her own and saying crisply, “I have told you in the past I did not approve of Harold and warned you his connexions were most unsatisfactory and of course I was right. I presume that group of - of persons are his acquaintances?”

Niall has scarcely opened his mouth to reply before she is waving him off, continuing: “And I have heard  _ several _ reports of you consorting with the servants. Really, Niall, I understand that it’s perfectly natural for young men to have...urges, but we cannot have such rumours spreading, especially with the risk of an unwanted child. I cannot see how you can be so  _ selfish _ , really, I -”

Niall had been doing his best impression of an inanimate object, reminding himself that she can’t  _ actually _ do anything to prevent him doing as he likes (especially as she spends the majority of her time in London), but at that his attention sharpens. “Not unwanted,” he interrupts, and her eyes snap to his, horrified.

“Niall James! You  _ haven’t _ gone and gotten some -”

“If I fathered a child, it wouldn’t be unwanted.” Niall holds her eyes with his despite the sickening feeling burrowing deep into his stomach. “As it happens, neither thing is likely to come to pass, barring some miracle, so you can rest easy on that score.”

Her horrified expression turns suspicious. “What do you mean, a miracle?”

Someone, God, or more probably in this case, Harry, has an exquisite sense of drama, because there’s a cursory knock on the door and Bressie’s head comes ‘round it, looking anxious. “Nialler? Y’alright, Chief? Louis said you needed me.”

Niall is out of his chair and hurrying over to tug Bressie into the room within two heartbeats. Selfish it may be, but he can’t help but feel more secure with Brez’s comforting bulk at his back.

Helen has risen from her chair and is staring at them, at Niall leaning back thankfully into Bressie’s strong embrace, and she’s gone white to the lips.

“Mother,” Niall says, as steadily as he can, “This is Niall Breslin. Head, me mum.”

To his credit, Bressie makes no indication there’s anything amiss, nodding politely and murmuring how nice it is to meet her.

“Niall.”

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen his mother so visibly upset, not even when he spilt hot cocoa on Lady Hertforshire’s dress just before her daughter’s coming out and Lady Hertforshire refused to invite them to it.

“Niall James Horan. Are you telling me you are a  _ sodomite _ ?”

Despite the severity of the situation, Niall cannot help but laugh. Of all the terms she could have used, she’s picked the one he can refute with perfect sincerity.

 

_ ~ Two Weeks Previously ~     _

It’s only as they’re strolling through the lower garden, Niall feeling horrifically awkward and tongue-tied, that he realises he knows nothing about this man save his name and hometown and that he’s a  _ werewolf _ . Like Niall is a werewolf. Because they exist, and Niall is a werewolf, and oh  _ God _ what if he goes feral and hurts someone or starts ripping livestock apart on the full moon, and now he’s consorting with  _ another _ werewolf and his mother’s going to be  _ furious _ . Probably not about the werewolf part, because she - please God - has no idea about them, but about - well, certainly about Bressie being a man, and perhaps  _ more _ that he’s of a low station.

“ - Niall. Niall, lad.”

Niall comes to himself with a start, realising Bressie’s been calling his name quite a few times, judging by the concern on his face. “My apologies,” he manages, throat feeling tight and sore. “I was - distracted, I did not mean to - forgive me, I’ve been a poor host.”

Breslin waves that aside with one large hand as though waving a fly off a horse he’s shoeing. “Don’t care about that, chief - just was worried about you. Away wi’ the fairies, were you?”

“Louis says fairies aren’t real,” Niall says, automatic, “They’re ‘t bogeymen, or close enough as makes no bones.”

“Are they so?” Bressie looks amused, which is better than worried. “And what says Louis of bogeymen themselves? Are they real, then?”

“I haven’t asked him, but I wouldn’t be surprised, really - “

“Niall, love.” Bressie waits for him to look up. “Fond as I am of Louis, I’m a bit worried, still. You - know we don’t need to do this, yeah? Or anything at all - can just be master and man, same as anywhere else.”

“Oh!” Niall bites at his lip, tugging at his cravat where it’s suddenly far too tight around his throat. Of course if Bressie wants - they can just - and obviously it would be better for his reputation, not to be involved with - he catches himself. His  _ reputation?  _ Is that suddenly what he’s worried about? Has he become so preoccupied with such things that he’s willing to throw away any kind of meaningful relationship with this man so as to retain a status he’s never cared for?

And the werewolf part of the equation - is that responsible for the pull Niall feels for him? The feeling that simply being in his presence is safer than Niall’s ever felt - the draw to please him, though Niall is so far above him socially - is this a result of the kinship they now share? But how to explain the - not attraction, for Niall feels no more desire to bed Bressie than any of the many ladies his mother has presented to him hopefully over the years, and yet there is no denying that Breslin is one of the best specimens mankind has to offer. Surely he should feel something for men if he does not for women.

“Am I broken?” he asks, abrupt, and realises too late how long he has been silent, debating within himself.

Bressie’s kindly swung round to look at the flowers, giving Niall his privacy as he thinks things over, and he turns back now, eyebrows knitted. “Is this - about the wolf thing?” he asks slowly, lowering his voice. 

Niall can’t help but laugh, a trifle bitterly. “Almost be easier if it was, I reckon. I’ve been like this me whole life, though, and never met anyone else like it, so it’s - got to be something wrong with me, innit?”

“I don’t - you’ve got ‘t give me a hint here, pet. Are you wanting out of this, whatever it is?”

“No!” Niall surprises even himself with his vehemence. “No,” he repeats, more quietly, and as he goes on, he realises it’s all true even as he says it, “I - I like you, big head. You’re kind, and thoughtful, and I don’t - I’ll have all of you, however it comes, I just - I can’t - I’ll try, but I can’t promise enthusiasm for anything more than a kiss.”

Bressie’s stopped stock still, looking at Niall with something akin to wonder in his eyes. “Niall,” he’s smiling hugely, eyes crinkling with it, “Niall, first time a girl tried to kiss me I panicked, proper-like. Couldn’t breathe, felt like I was dying. Mates took the piss for ages. Tried again a few months later, with a lad this time - just checking, like. One of me friends offered - Eoghan, he’s a proper one; you’d like him I think - and it was easier, but the thought of anything more - intercourse proper, like. Can’t even stomach the thought of it.”

To his horror, Niall feels tears start to his eyes. He dashes them away quickly with the back of a hand, shaking his head. “Sorry, I’m not - not a bit sad, I dunno why I’m - I’m - feels like first time in ages I’ve not had to worry about this. Mother’s going ‘t croak - she’s been wanting me married these past three years gone, with an heir and a couple spares.”

Not even glancing ‘round first, Bressie opens his arms, and Niall steps into them, still giddy with enough relief not even to think to check if there’s anyone watching them still. They can work out the specifics of what each of them is comfortable with later - time enough for those conversations over the weeks and months to come.

Two blissful weeks of such conversations and others held between hammer strikes and the hiss of cooling metal in the smithy, between the race to get the hay in before the first hard storm, mingled with games of Tig and Hide-and-Go-Seek that are made more interesting by all four of the boys shamelessly using magic to cheat and Bressie retaliating by teaching Niall how to open his wolf’s senses and track the others by scent. 

Lazy evenings lounging in front of the library’s fire toasting bread and cheese and sausages and listening to Louis and Zayn bicker about what makes music good and Harry insisting that good is a relative concept because no one can be completely objective about music and this leading to rousing renditions of everything from ‘Did You Not Hear My Lady’ to ‘Down By The Salley Gardens’ and ‘The Hedgehog Song’. This last, it must be admitted, was primarily performed by Harry, who sings all nineteen verses with gusto, despite the protestations of the rest of the party and many blushes on the part of the Nialls. 

Mornings after Niall has (with Louis and Liam’s help) smuggled Bressie into his room to sleep - just to sleep - and waking to the warmth of a large, solid body curled about him and then being very thoroughly wakened by one or the other of the lads dropping (literally) in on them and tumbling them and the pillows about the bed until they rise. (When either of them protests this treatment, Louis just shrugs and says that they’re not getting up to anything anyway, so they can’t be interrupting, and at any rate he’s already seen both of them naked, so what does it matter.)

Days and nights of stealing glances across a room or a clearing at Bressie and feeling a bright surge of happiness that such a man was  _ Niall’s _ and Niall was his. The first full moon where Bressie showed him the pain-pleasure of the shift and the joy of running under the moon’s beckoning rays. The feeling the next day that he’d been run over by a cart-and-four and Bressie laughing at his moanings and groanings before cajoling Mrs. Sellers into making them breakfast even though it was so late.

_ ~ now ~ _

 

These memories and many more such ones keep Niall’s head up and even a smile still on his face as he informs his mother that Bressie is his  _ chroí grá _ and he’s learning to be content with himself and the way he is and if she doesn’t like it she can go back to her London house and pretend ignorance of him. “Besides,” he adds easily, “you never got much social currency out of me anyway. Might be easier for you if you forget you’ve a country seat here at all, much less one with a son and a son’s blacksmith partner in it.”

(He can hear faint cheers from outside the room, which means the lads ignored him saying he’d be fine on his own, but he nevertheless is heartened by the sound of their support.)

He finishes off his speech by reaching up to pull Bressie’s head down to his, checking quietly that it’s all right before kissing him swiftly and soundly.

Helen’s mouth is agape in a way that he takes great pleasure in informing her is “not at all attractive.”

“I shall be informing your father,” she tells him stiffly, and he shrugs, taking still more pleasure in something she’s scolded him for all his life.

“He already knows. He’s known Brez for years, it turns out. Great friends with his father and all - he wholeheartedly approves.”

“Well!” Speechless at last, Helen sweeps out of her drawing room and into her boudoir, closing the door with a firmness that in anyone else would have been termed a slam.

Instantly the far door opens and the other four lads pile in, knocking both him and Bressie to the floor with their exuberance.

“Told her off right proper, Nialler!” Louis crows, and Harry beams round indiscriminately as Zayn and Liam cover his face and then Bressie’s with quick kisses.

“Round of cider to celebrate and then toasties in the library?” Niall asks, and there’s a general cheer of approval.

He meets Bressie’s eyes across the pile of limbs and Bressie smiles at him, eyes crinkling, and Niall thinks that he could very easily love this man for the rest of his life, despite the difficulties even in their small world that may come with the oddity of their relationship as it stands - and that without the almost de facto foursome that seem a permanent fixture. Still, he thinks, smiling back, whatever comes their way, they’ll have one another for certain-sure, and with such a motley band as they are, surely they can handle it one way or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks again to kate @dramaturgicallycorrect and nicole @sunrainstarsmoon for the beta! y'all are awesome and im thankful every day to know you

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Nessie Summer Fanwork Fest - thanks so much to the mods for organising this! And thank you to kate dramaturgicallycorrect for the awesome and superfast beta! Second chapter should be up soon!


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